Have I ever told you that it is incredibly annoying to have to re-find files when you move to a new laptop? Not that I don't love my new laptop--it's amazing--but sheesh, as if I needed another reason not to write...

So I decided to stop being lazy and get at least something out here. Sorry I've been a crappy author and not even responding to reviews like I normally do... I still love all ya'll :)


I never even have to say his name. He already knows when I'm thinking it, a quiet call that never goes unanswered.

I know what they think, when they think of me. Stubborn to a fault. Foolish. Petty. Vain. Superficial. Jealous. Temperamental, mercurial even. Shallow. That I give no more thought to the world than does the rose.

But Emmett—If I am a rose, then Emmett is the sun towards which I incline, the water in my veins, the grounding earth in which I sink my roots. He doesn't care about the thorns, the leaf-mould, the blemishes that will be found. It's not that he doesn't choose to see them—no, for he sees them more perfectly than anyone else.

And he loves me anyways.

So why should I give more thought to the world than does the rose? For Emmett is my world, and I will always be his Rose.